Mrs. McIntosh laughed at my answer and said, "I think you're being naughty."
Still with my fingers on her panties, I replied, "But aren't you enjoying this?"
My old scoutmaster's wife, who as still so lovely and appealing even at this age, had not resisted at all. If anything, she seemed to take my touching her in stride. It had seemed that the more we enjoyed talking with one another, the less she cared about where my hands were.
"Well," she said, "it has been a while since anyone has tickled me there like you are doing."
I smiled at her, "And doesn't it feel good?"
"You are a naughty one, aren't you?" she asked as I so gently grazed her panties where they covered her pussy.
"I'm imaging what you look like down there," I told her.
Mrs. McIntosh exhaled audibly, as if she were finally taking in the full implications of what she thought had begun as innocent touching.
"I imagine that underneath your panties is lovely black curly hair, and I'd love to see it some time."
Her breathing became more deep, and her lips parted as I pressed again very gently into her slit. Now I was feeling her pussy so that she knew she was being violated. Her little clitoral bump became my target.
This had already gone much much farther than I had hoped. I really did not have a plan, and my mind was racing to decide what to do next - just stop and call it an evening, or try to fuck her there in the conference room?
All of a sudden it came to me. Since I had lusted after Mrs. McIntosh for all these years, why rush things? I was really in no hurry.
I could feel her clitoral zone, and as I purposefully ran my finger over and around it, Mrs. McIntosh began to let her head roll back. Her breathing became more rapid, and the rosy color in her face deepened. She had stopped talking, and I no longer gave any pretense to conversation. She knew I was getting her off, even with all her clothes on. I knew I could pull her trigger soon and push her over the edge. In my imagination, I could see myself fucking her soon.
But instead, I waited until I could feel her pacing herself for a climax.
As she neared an orgasm, I stopped my touches. Her breathing calmed. I allowed her a brief period of dignified repose, and then I resumed massaging her clitoris until she neared climax again.
As soon as she gave signs of nearing a release, I stopped.
Mrs. McIntosh stared at me, "What are you doing to me?"
I smiled and told her, "I am making you want to be fucked by me."
Mrs. McIntosh couldn't property respond. She was in such a state of excitement that she could only stare at me. It was all she could do to control her breathing. Over and over, several more times, I took her to the edge of satisfaction. And each time I withdrew and left her dissatisfied.
My old scoutmaster's lovely wife was getting frazzled. She was completely unglued and in no condition to make rational a rational judgement about being fucked.